


Escapism

by twilightshards



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:41:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightshards/pseuds/twilightshards
Summary: Just a little what if-scenario. Takes place after Miguel escapes from Oz.





	Escapism

_”Alvarez has escaped.”_

The words hit him like a tidal wave. Some part of him is almost angry. Not that Miguel escaped, but that he didn’t tell him. Honestly, he likes the idea of Miguel outside of Oz. He doesn’t belong in prison, and certainly not confined in solitary as he’s been for a while now.

Still, Ray can’t help but to wish that Miguel would have told him. He doesn’t know why he feels almost betrayed. Or well… he does know, but he prefers not to think too much about _that_.

***

Several days later, Ray returns home to find a figure sitting on the porch to his small house. Hidden in shadow, wearing a too-big hoodie and with his head turned down. Ray doesn’t have to see his face to know who it is. His heart jumps a little in his chest.

“Miguel…” he says, voice so low that it’s almost a whisper, but it’s apparently loud enough to catch the other man’s attention as he immediately glances up.

“Hey, _padre_ ,” Miguel responds. Somehow he is able to grin that trademark grin of his, but it’s fraught with tension and anxiety and maybe even desperation.

Well… he’d have to be pretty damn desperate to come here of all places. Ray wonders if he wants to turn himself in, but something tells him that’s not the case. If Miguel goes back now he’s pretty much doomed to spend the rest of his sentence (the rest of his _life_?) in solitary confinement.

So why come here? Ray could easily get on the phone and have the police here in a matter of minutes. Somehow, though, that idea makes something inside of him seize up with pain. He can’t do that to Miguel, it’d be like condemning him to death. And maybe that is why Miguel is here now. Because he knows that too.

It almost bothers him. Why would Miguel trust him that much when he didn’t even tell him that he was planning on escaping in the first place?

_You’re being childish_ , he scolds himself, _why would he have told you that?_

It doesn’t matter now, anyhow, and so Ray says nothing else as he ushers Miguel into his house.

Less than ten minutes later they are seated at Ray’s kitchen table, coffee brewing on the stove. Miguel hasn’t said a word aside from his initial greeting and Ray isn’t sure what to say either so they just sit there. Miguel seems more relaxed now, but there is still a certain edginess in his mannerisms, like he’s expecting the police to kick down the door at any minute.

Finally, Ray can’t stand the oppressive silence any longer and says, “Why are you still here?” He’d have thought Miguel would be half-way to Mexico by now.

Miguel shrugs. “Harder than you’d think to get outta here.” Ray knows that’s a lie. Miguel had practically grown up on the streets, he if anyone would know how to slip by undetected. He doesn’t say that, though, just nods. Pretends that he buys that explanation. Pretends that he’s not wondering if the reason Miguel hasn’t left yet is because of him.

_Don’t be so self-centered_ , he scolds himself.

They don’t talk more about Miguel’s reason for being here. Ray doesn’t even ask how Miguel got a hold of his address, not sure he _wants_ to know if he’s honest. Instead they talk  about mundane things. Well, Ray does most of the talking. He talks about some of the going-ons at Oz, informs Miguel about the recapture of Busmalis and Miguel laughs, says he’s not surprised, that Busmalis ain’t exactly a criminal mastermind or some street-smart thug.

_Not like you_ , Ray doesn’t say. Then again, a criminal mastermind wouldn’t exactly take this kind of risk, would they? A calculated risk, he supposes, but a risk nonetheless.

Eventually the conversation starts to die out, and Ray can see Miguel trying to hide a yawn behind his hand. Glancing at the clock on his wall confirms that it’s getting quite late. Sleep is definitely in order.

Ray offers Miguel his bed for the night, but Miguel insists that the couch is fine, that he doesn’t want to kick Ray out of his own bed, and Ray argues that Miguel if anyone should be get to sleep in a proper bed for once. Finally, they come to the decision to share the bed. It’s big enough for two, anyway, Ray reasons.

Miguel undresses in front of him, seemingly without thinking (the lack of any kind of privacy in Oz would do that to someone, Ray reasons) and Ray allows himself a moment to glance at his body—he’s lost both weight and muscle during this time in solitary, but he’s no less beautiful for it. Ray quickly averts his eyes then. Had he really just thought of Miguel as _beautiful_?

If Miguel catches him looking he says nothing about it, just crawls into bed wearing only his boxers. Ray joins him after a moment, though he keeps a shirt on. He lays on his side, back to Miguel, keeping a distance between their bodies.

They lay in silence for a while before Ray breaks it, softly, “Won’t you come back to Oz with me in the morning? I’ll do my best to keep you out of solitary, I promise.”

Miguel heaves a sigh behind him. “Yeah, _padre_ , I’ll go with you.” Ray can tell he’s lying again, but once again he doesn’t call him on it.

Ray soon falls into a shallow slumber, waking sometime in the middle of the night to the feeling of slender arms draped around his waist and hot breath against his neck. It makes his skin prickle with goosebumps, and he knows that he should pull away, that he should distance himself again, but he can’t.

_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…_

“Sorry I didn’t tell you,” Miguel’s voice whispers in the dark, breath against his ear, “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Ray whispers back, his hand searching for Miguel’s and holding it tightly once he finds it.

“I wanted to say goodbye. Couldn’t leave here until I did.”

“…I know.”

When Ray wakes up in the morning the place where Miguel had been the previous night is empty. Maybe it had all been a dream, brought on by the stress of the job, but when he touches the sheets where Miguel had been he can still feel the lingering warmth of another body, and when he presses his face to that same spot he can smell Miguel there.

On the bedside table he finds a note.

_I’ll write you from Tierra del Fuego._

So that’s where Miguel is headed. Ray knows that he could easily—no, not easily, but he _could_ —tell the warden or the police, make up some story about Miguel calling him, telling him where he is going, and they would stop him before he got there, but just as Miguel had known that Ray wouldn’t turn him in when he showed up at his house, he must have known that Ray won’t tell a living soul of where he is headed either.

***

Ray hadn’t really expected Miguel to really do it, but after several months of no sign of life from Miguel a postcard arrives at Ray’s home address. There’s no return address, but Ray knows that it’s from Miguel before he even turns it around to look at what’s written. The postcard has _Tierra del Fuego_ written on it, and the stamp on the back confirms it.

Ray’s heart beats faster as he reads the short message: _Told you I’d do it._

A smile breaks out on Ray’s face. _He made it, he really did_.

The next day Ray requests a couple of weeks time off, claiming he could use a vacation.


End file.
